


Crashing

by FroldGapp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood, Bullying, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Gen, Heith - Freeform, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mild Gore, Mild Language, SHEITH - Freeform, Season/Series 07, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-12
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-06-26 13:31:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15664179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroldGapp/pseuds/FroldGapp
Summary: Three stories that follow the aftermath of season 7 episode 13.- Keith is rescued from the Black Lion.- A recovering Keith meets James and realises their relationship isn't as healthy as he thought.- Hunk gives Keith some much-needed love.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written while listening to Hug of Thunder by Broken Social Scene on repeat. Yeaaah!
> 
> No beta, British English.

Shiro was already running when the Black Lion streaked through the sky in a shower of purple quintessence. Only for Iverson grabbing him by the arm, he’d have run the whole way to the crash site. He wanted to run still. He yanked his arm free, over-balanced, but corrected himself in a couple of awkward steps. He glared at Iverson, affronted.

‘Captain!’ Iverson barked. ‘Think man, _think_.’

 _I can’t_.

Iverson was upon him in a second, bundling him out the door and into a waiting jeep. Iverson climbed in after him and activated the jeep’s controls with a rough slap of his palm to the panel. ‘Belt up, captain. It’s a rough ride.’

Right arm thrumming with anxious power, Shiro reached across his chest and tapped the control for the belt. It snapped shut like a vice. ‘Go,’ he bit, eyes fixed on the horizon and the awful banner of smoke.

‘Right you are, captain,’ Iverson said, grim but not unkind, and slammed his foot to the floor.

OoO

The Black Lion wouldn’t open its mouth. Lying smoking on its side, it looked like neck-snapped carrion ready to be pecked to bones by the desert birds. It was dead seeming, and anything within it likewise. There was no dull pulse of life. No faint shimmer of light in the middle distance like there was before. He could no longer feel the beast’s energy since his transference into the clone’s body in any case, but now it was akin to torture. He’d willingly throw himself back into the astral plane and the mind of the Black Lion if only he could make it open its mouth.

‘Open up!’ Shiro roared, shoving his prosthetic between the massive jaws and prying with everything he had. Nothing moved, not an inch. Iverson stood behind him, leaning against the jeep and sucking on a cigarette; still a hopeless chainsmoker. ‘I can’t…’ Shiro panted, swiping the sleeve of his other arm across his forehead. ‘We have to get him out. _Christ_!’ Shiro threw a boot at the buttressed jaw.

With a throaty grumble, Iverson pulled his spent cigarette from his mouth and dropped it to the sand, crushing it with his boot. Muttering to himself, he ambled to the back of the jeep, slipped a blaster from its bracket, hefted it on his shoulder and fired off a shot. It glanced off the Black Lion’s shoulder and zipped into the glaring blue sky. Shiro spun, eyes wild. ‘Iverson! This is one of the most powerful machines in the universe. You can’t just –’

Black’s right eye exploded into a thousand sparkling shards.

‘Looks pretty fucked to me,’ Iverson said, and slid another smoke from the pack. Mouth gaping, Shiro stared at the lion’s broken face, then turned his eyes back to Iverson who shrugged and popped the cigarette into his mouth. He spoke around it, the lighter sparking in his palm. ‘Well, go get your boy.’

Shiro looked to the blue sky, the shadow of dust and ash that floated across it. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and turned back to the lion. ‘This isn’t how this is going to end,’ he said. The metal was hot beneath his human hand as he began to climb.

OoO

The cockpit was cold. Despite the punishing heat outside, Shiro’s breath clouded in front of him as he dropped onto the floor. The whole space was dark, darker than it should be. The sun was high, the lion’s face tilted towards the south.

Keith was barely visible through the gloom, his body marked in vague white lines that looked more mist than man. Shiro rushed forward and dropped to his knees next to the pilot’s chair. His hands ran up the smooth panelling along Keith’s calves, over his thighs, his waist and across his chest. Blue light of Altean energy chased his movements, gentle as a firefly. His bionic fingers clicked against the plating; the only sound save his ragged breathing. 

‘Keith?’ Shiro asked, but the sound was sucked from the air the second he uttered it. The Black Lion was wounded utterly; awesome in the extent of its defeat. Supernatural. ‘Keith?’ This time, the name echoed, as though he were suddenly in a vast, lightless place. The astral plane flickered in his memory.  _I’d do it again_ , he thought. _To save him._

Keith’s arms hung loosely on either side of the chair, palms up; S _havasana._ His helmet was smashed glassless at the front, the space above the visor bore a small but vicious dent. The snapped joystick to Keith’s left accounted for the impact. Shiro thought of a neck and lost vision for a moment. ‘Keith,’ he said again, stupid in the futility of it. Keith’s face, expressive and wonderful, was coated in a slick wash of blood. His jaw hung open.

‘No.’

Through a narrow gap in lashes made of shadow, sightless eyes stared.

‘No!’ Shiro wrenched the belt free of Keith’s small frame and flung it against the far wall. ‘No, no, no.’ He wept. Hot tears spilled off his chin and splashed against the scarlet ‘V’ that stood like an open wound on the pristine white of the paladin armour. Awkward, blind with tears, he straddled the still body and with unsteady hands, pried Keith’s helmet from his head; careful, _so_ careful, despite the voice inside him that screamed _hurry, hurry, hurry._  The thing came away messy and pulped with blood and matted hair where the dent was. The wound was pink. The skull visible. Keith’s ears had started turning black at the tips. Shiro’s head dropped. He sobbed, mouth pressed closed until he thought his jaw would break.

‘No.’ Again, the word echoed, careening around the cockpit like a trapped bird. Shiro shook his head, forcing a bleak kind of calm. ‘No. You–you told me about that druid,’ Shiro said, bringing his right arm up to his face. It ran with bolts of blue lightning. ‘About your hand. How you healed yourself. A-and Allura’s… her power… Her power, it’s here. It’s here.’ He was rambling. He knew it. He bit down on the power panelling, tearing it free with a jerk of his head. His voice was thick. He could barely speak through the lump in his throat or farm the breath for words. ‘This isn’t how it ends, Keith. You don’t get to save the whole fucking universe and go out like this.’ His hand moved from where it teased Keith’s hair between his fingers and plucked Allura’s stone from his other arm. It powered down immediately, clattering to the floor. Face lit by the glimmering stone, Shiro spoke to the Black Lion, Alfor, the massless white thing that had been guiding him since his return from the astral plane, Allura, Coran, the universe itself. ‘Please,’ he sobbed once, caught it, swallowed it down. ‘Save him. Save him. He…’ 

The stone pulsed once between his fingers. Shiro tried to calm his racing breaths. He clenched the stone tighter. ‘He’s not yours to take. He’s _mine._ He’s ours. He’s ours and we _need_ him.’ The stone sparked, throwing neon motes into the air between them. Something stirred in the cockpit; a trail of embers. ‘Keith…’ On that face, expressive and wonderful in life; twisted, jaw open and tongue dry in death, Shiro read the lines of each smile and scowl and rare laugh like a fond cartographer. ‘Keith, please.’ He smelled smoke, heard the crackle of a lonely candle in a window remote. ‘Keith… _Keith…_ ’ Violet ran in fine lines across the cockpit, bright and quick as meteors, then died again. Shiro crushed his grief beneath his heel, buried it with love. ‘I love you. I love you, Keith. Come back. Let me tell you. Let me tell you that I love you.’ 

The stone fizzed white hot, cracked, and dulled into a husk of black. 

The chest beneath him expanded. The eyes slipped closed. And the broken pilot sighed deeply as though shaking off nothing more than a nightmare.

Shiro laughed airlessly; laughed through fresh tears and a mouth puckered with emotion. Somehow, he found the wit to move again. As gently as he could, careful of Keith’s neck and head, Shiro manoeuvred them both until Keith’s back lay against him, head tucked neatly beneath Shiro’s chin. Keith’s small breaths billowed against the hand that held him steady. Alive. Shiro looked to the ceiling, thanked whatever in the universe needed to be thanked. He flicked on his coms, about to hail Iverson. The cockpit exploded in a shower of blue: the wolf.

The cockpit exploded in a shower of blue: the wolf.

‘Take us back,’ Shiro said. He didn’t heel for many, but the wolf obeyed.

OoO

In the cold new stronghold of the Blade of Marmora, Krolia gasped awake. On the table next to her cot, the dagger glimmered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No beta, British English.

In his defence, Keith had already asked his mother four times if he could go for a walk before temptation got the better of him and he decided to go anyway. That she was asleep when he made that decision, quietly climbing out of his hospital bed and sneaking past her, was a moral question he'd have to face another time. Forgoing slippers and the thick cotton gown that hung from a hook by the door, Keith slipped out of the room and into the stale, warm air of the un-air conditioned hall. Since he'd regained consciousness, his days had been filled with long spells of dosing, bizarre Galran card games he could never follow, and lying quietly while his mother and the others spoke quietly around him. Kolivan came and went, a new man it seemed. Though grief trailed him like a shroud, his hard edges had rounded some, like a pebble washed smooth by the pounding of the ocean. He smiled. He chatted. He especially fawned on Hunk who entertained him with stories of fishing, bird watching and Earth cuisine. Pidge was a wonder to him and a new target for his shrewd thought experiments and mini projects. Though still weak herself, she threw herself at them, happy for his attention and a project to keep her busy.

Surrounded by the chatter, Keith found himself even more thick-tongued and ineloquent then usual. In the wake of a battle that left them beaten and the lions depleted once more, his head seemed only half there: thoughts muted and movement slow. He'd jerk awake, arms flying, as memories played out vivid as the moment of their making. Black mewled in his half-waking moments, but he didn't have the strength to reach her. Krolia had said he spoke often to the lion in his sleep, little phrases of calming and encouragement. She said too that he wept for her, apologising. When she offered to get him something stronger for the pain and rampant thoughts, he declined. He already felt apart from himself enough as it was. He didn't want a repeat of his time lost in space with the others. His words to Allura and Hunk shamed him. Even in his rowdiest Garrison moments, he'd never been  _cruel._

Keith limped down the long corridors of the garrison hospital, fingers bumping along the condensation-damp walls to keep him steady. His head felt stuffed and hot. He was beginning to see double. Ever since his encounter with the druid, phantom images had been ghosting behind his eyes; worse now that he was tired, injured. His right hand spasmed.

Staff nodded at him as he passed, and somehow he found the energy to offer weary waves in return. On leaving his room, one nurse had stopped and tried to convince him to return to bed, but a smile and white lie about how he was looking for his mother, “the tall, overprotective alien” had them scampering away with a nervous laughing fit. His mother had been received on Earth with no small amount of shock and curiosity. Keith didn't like how the doctors looked at her. Aliens were welcome, the crowds of happily hob-nobbing species and burgeoning inter-planetary communities proved as much. An alien who got down and dirty with a human and spawned a half-bred _Galra_ of all things? That had press come a-knocking, and Krolia come a-knocking right back: mostly with her fist across their heads.

Rounding a corner, he almost collided with someone. They grappled him with two strong hands and held him steady until the stars vanished from in front of his eyes.

‘Hey, easy.’ James stood before him, eyes keen and sharp as always. He'd grown, properly grown. Keith had left behind an athletic but comfortably soft kid and come back to a bonafide war hero, now – mind-bogglingly - three years his junior.

‘Thanks,’ Keith mumbled and righted himself, easing back slowly from James’s grip. A silence hung between them, but Keith had learned by now that things were generally better when he at least attempted to open up. So he did. ‘Hey, Griffin. You uh… you were pretty great out there. Commanding the MF-’

‘Can it, Kogane,’ said James, face cold and eyes narrowed. ‘This,’ he began, gesturing between them both, ‘is nothing more than me doing my job and protecting a "paladin" who seems to be the universe’s only hope; another position you seem to have lucked yourself into.’

Keith said nothing, but the stars were back, falling behind his eyes like embers. His heart hammered in his ribcage. His conversation with Iverson had given him some small hope that things had changed, that  _he_ had changed and that the world could see it. He was wrong, of course.

He licked his lips and scanned the far wall for the words he was after. 'Listen, James,' he started, but James stepped into his space until their chests were touching. Keith shrank back, tripped, and caught himself against the wall. The hall was spinning in lurching loops, colour bleeding out from the edges.

‘I get it. You're a _paladin._ _Special._ Believe me, if it wasn't for Shiro and Sam Holt, I'd be in that black lion like _this_.' He snapped his fingers and Keith flinched back. He thought he might be sick. 'But the "bond," right?'

'Look, James, I just want to –'

The other pilot sneered, laughing through his nose. 'Just because your dad screwed some alien chick and made you a hot shot mystic knight or whatever. That's right: I saw the Galra specs. They tested your mom, you know? When you were out. She didn't even make a fuss. At least someone in your family knows how to tow the line. Really shines a light on your _inhuman_ score sheets back then. Increased reaction times? Five times more photoreceptors than any human? Higher g-force tolerance? You're a _sham_ , Kogane.'

Trembling, Keith felt the slow leak of rage from his sternum, up through his cabled throat and into his poor, clouded head. He breathed and pushed it down. 'If you hate me so much, why'd you help me just now?'

'We need you, don't we?' James mock-demured. 'The great Leader of Voltron. Don't think I like it and don't think I'm buying this _new you_. Just don't want you to blow this like you blew everything else in your life. Guess you can't count on Shiro since he's not even a paladin anymore. Wasn't enough for you to take his records, had to take his lion too.' He shrugged. 'So I heard.' Smiling, a brittle thing, he leaned into Keith and took the meat between his neck and shoulder in his hand. He squeezed. 'So try not to kill yourself by running into a wall, asshole.’

And he was off, marching down the corridor without a backwards glance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get at me! froldgapp.tumblr.com

Hunk, well-equipped with a charming smile and new-found status of “Defender of the Universe”, had wrangled his way into the hospital kitchen no problem. He’d even managed to get hold of a sweet Garrison apron and some great knives. He’d pass them to his dad; small price to pay for a lifetime of free cooking lessons. The staff had left him to it, happy to get out of the stuffy space and into the fresh morning. He sang Nat King Cole songs as he worked, enjoying how his voice rang off the tiles.

Slipping a paring knife from its sleeve, Hunk plucked a pepper from the basket in front of him and started cutting it with expert precision. He made short work of a few more then moved onto some misshapen but vibrant red onions. One thing about Earth food: it sure was beautiful, in all its lumpy, bumpy glory.

Something clattered to the ground behind him. He almost took the tip of his thumb off it was so loud. He spun in place to find a figure bent and panting in the doorway. Keith. He’d pulled down a rack of utensils and was making a poor show of trying to pick them up.

‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’ll…’ Pale fingers reached for a spatula but missed it by some margin. Slim thighs shivered like a foal’s under the simple hospital gown.

Hunk raced to his side, noted the pink stain on the otherwise pristine bandages around his head. ‘Hey, wow, _woah!’_ Hunk cried as Keith almost toppled over as he made another grab for the spatula. It seemed at times that Keith hadn’t quite grown into himself, long legs deadly in battle, ungainly in casual moments. It’s like a fight primed him, sharpened him into another thing entirely. Hunk used to be jealous, but that had ebbed as the war went on. All he wanted now was for Keith to be Keith; for this war to end and the gentle, cautious boy – _man –_  to grow. Hunk caught him around his narrow waist, felt the coiled muscles tremble with effort. ‘Keith, hey, hey.’

‘Hunk?’ At last, Keith blinked up at him with glassy eyes. ‘Hey, hey,’ he said, voice sloppy, tongue thick. He licked his lips and appeared to appraise his current predicament, feet splayed and body clamped against Hunk’s. Solemn eyes drifted back to Hunk. He licked his lips and said, ‘I ruin everything.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Hunk said, half dragging Keith towards a couch in the corner, tutting his protest when Keith made another weak attempt to clean up his mess. He deposited Keith on the couch who promptly dropped his head into his hands. He looked so diminished in the orange garb; long neck bent and head defeated. ‘Hey,’ Hunk prompted, slipping in beside him. ‘What happened?’

Keith pushed long fingers into his hair, fidgeted with the edges of the bandage. ‘I met James. He _hates_  me. I fucked up, Hunk. I fucked up and I can’t fix it. Not this. You were there, right? You were there when I… Everywhere I go, there’s some shitty thing from my past waiting. I can’t… I can’t…’ A sob cracked somewhere in that too-large heart and Keith was weeping, shoulders heaving.

‘No, no,’ Hunk cooed, pulling Keith against him. He fussed with the smaller man until they were pressed, chest to chest. Keith’s heart beat between them, rapid and timorous as a bird’s. ‘You’re… what…’ Hunk struggled to gather his words. ‘That guy’s a _jerk!_  The worst kind of jerk; one you have to keep around!’

‘He’s a hero.’

Hunk wanted to scream. ‘What are you _talking_  about?! You… you… You’re unbelievable!’

‘I know,’ Keith whispered, fingers flexing on Hunk’s broad back. ‘I know I am. I’m messed up.’

Closing his eyes and sucking in a lung-bursting breath, Hunk clutched Keith’s small frame to him. Tears welled up in his own eyes as he rocked them both back and forth, back and forth, just like his mama used to do. ‘Keith, you told me I was the paladin who impressed you most. But yo, get this: you’re mine. When I got to go on that Weblum mission with you, I was stoked. Like, just to spend time with you. It’s like… it’s like you’re made of steel or something. All this junk life throws at you and you somehow manage to keep getting up. But you shouldn’t have to, and if I have to end this war with my own two hands, I will, because all I want is for you to… I dunno… to just _be._  You’re a good person, Keith. I want to call you my hero, but I’m over that. You’re more than that. You’re my friend and I fucking love you, man. I love you.’

Keith sniffed, tried to pull away, but sank against Hunk in the next breath with another barking sob. ‘I don’t know how to do this,’ he uttered, shaking his head weakly.

‘I’ll teach you,’ said Hunk. ‘But not before I drag your skinny ass back to bed.’

A chuckle followed a weak nod, and Keith allowed himself to be lifted from the couch. As they exited the kitchen, his eyes widened and he almost flopped himself free of Hunk’s grasp. ‘What if James sees me like this?’

Hunk shrugged and righted his grip. It wasn’t hard; Keith wasn’t so heavy and for now, Hunk was strong enough to carry them both. ‘Then,’ he mused, ‘I’ll punch him in his dick.’

‘ _Hunk_!’

‘That’s right! Meet the real bad boy of the Galaxy Garrison!’

With Keith’s reluctant laughs ringing against his chest, Hunk smiled and made his way back along the corridor and into Keith’s room, where his wolf, his mom and all the love in the world waited for him.

**Author's Note:**

> get at me! froldgapp.tumblr.com


End file.
